


STARSHIP: ATLANTIS

by lvstcenturion



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: AU, Atlantis, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Isolation, John Watson - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Meta, STARSHIP: ATLANTIS, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Sherlock Meta, Starship - Freeform, TJLC, johnlock au, johnlock meta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9855941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lvstcenturion/pseuds/lvstcenturion
Summary: On Sol12 Ares-9 departed the surface of Mars. That Sol saw Ares-9's certified Commander Holmes and Doctor John H Watson all but dead. Whether or not they survive alone on a barren planet will be told through on their intellect, strength and maybe a little romance here and there.





	1. SOL12

SOL12  
On Sol12 Ares-9 departed the surface of Mars. That Sol saw Ares-9's certified Commander Holmes, a man with a degree in biological science, engineering, physical science and mathematics, with over 1000 hours flying experience and over 950 simulated landings in the shuttle training aircraft, a man holding one of the highest ranks awarded by NASA, all but dead. Powerless to the will of a martian planet, a world that would make one go mad without the company of any other civilised life. Fortunately for Holmes, he held the honour of keeping company to the leading doctor on the expedition, John H Watson. The term 'leading' being used lightly as he were the only doctor on the expedition - in fact, he was currently the only doctor on the face of the planet. Which he would argue, meant he was the best. However a history in medicine doesn’t really go towards much when you’re trapped alone on Mars.

~

"Anderson, Commence emergency departure." Sherlock called into the communicator

"Holmes what are you doing?!" John yelled over his shoulder whilst fiddling with the solar radar. Most of the dishes would have been destroyed in the storm long before now but he continued regardless. 

"I'm not leaving you behind captain." Anderson argued 

The room shook again and came a violent shattering noise from somewhere in the north of the base. If I live through this I'll have to be sure that wasn't Harry's, he thought. The storm had an estimated maximum force of 8600 newtons, the MAV was only designed to withstand 7500N, anymore and it would tip leaving no way to escape the planet's surface. The MAV would tip at 13 degrees but with the storm already steadily approaching 12.3 the only logical decision was plan B, 'get the hell out of here as quick as possible'. The HAB, however, could withstand over 10,000N before too much went wrong, that didn't eliminate the element of fear within the astronauts but was a good enough motivator to stay the hell inside. When outside, the trip from the HAB to the MAV would take a fair few minutes to travel in normal conditions, but a storm of such extremities that even NASA couldn't predict its strength, that was also steadily moving towards them therefore increasing its power with every passing second, it wasn't improving their odds of survival. Even if they could make the trip it would take longer due to the overpowering winds, that's time they couldn't risk losing with the MAV getting less stable with every second. Not to mention the chances of making the journey without any injuries from flying debris and rocks was extremely low. No, Sherlock decided, there was no way they were getting on the ship, why lose 6 lives when you can save 4.

"That's an order Anderson. Abort mission. Now!"

There was a long pause on the other end of the radio before finally came a reluctant response

"Yes commander Holmes."

He could feel the quake of the ground as the MAV took off and hear the roar of the engines. Maybe that was just the storm. He'd never actually know for sure. He knew they'd be okay, they may not have had a commander but Donovan could be pretty bossy when she wanted to be, and Anderson was a decent enough engineer, Lestrade would help him where needed. Alas that would have to do. Ares-9 no longer had a Commander Holmes or Doctor J Watson, likely nobody ever would again. 

~

John Hamish Watson, former Assistant Surgeon of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. A retired Army Doctor who left the war to contribute to a much larger battle, The Space Race. The role for an Assistant Surgeon on Apes-9 wasn’t much to envy (I guess you could call him Chief Military Officer as well but on a ship with no weapons, that isn’t much of a feat). It was arguably the least the important position on the Atlantas. To become a Mars Astronaut you have to go through 10 years of intense training. Not so much physically as mentally. This training includes trail runs of every possible thing that may go wrong, low-gravity simulations, extended periods of isolation, as well as extended periods of confinement with the rest of your crew. That equivocates to more than enough time for every member of the crew to have a degree in medicine and engineering, as they all do, John merely as a further degree. However, to become a NASA astronaut you also need to be a tolerable person. John is a fairly friendly and easy to get on with, optimistic but hard-working to the right balance where he doesn’t expect the world to be handed to him without work towards it. His years background in the British Army prepared him for the confinement and isolation, but also gave him nerves of steel and a calm frame of mind in impossible situations (all things that were tested and programmed into any astronauts mind by NASA 10 years previous, of course). 

Sherlock Holmes, however, was not what you would call a tolerable person. Where Sherlock exceeded John in mental capabilities, John made up for with a positive attitude and friendly persona. Sherlock could run the most horrifying numbers to the nearest decimal with the blink of an eye. He had endless qualifications and a doctrine in many studies. He graduated high school at an early age and went straight to university to major in astrophysics, a topic he cared all too much for and passed with flying colours. When he eventually had to sit the written NASA evaluation test he got the highest score out of all the 2000 pending applicants. This is a demographic of geniuses from all over the world, doctors, engineers, physicists, lawyers, mechanics, professors, accountants, etc. He was an easy candidate for the position right from the beginning, the only place he ever struggled was with the personality testing. 

From a young age he’d never got on well with other people, he blamed his intellect, being that clever nobody could ever understand what he was talking about. He coped extremely well with the isolation tests as he’d conditioned himself to it from a young age (I wish I could say it was in preparation for space exploration but I think he just preferred it), however his communication with other crew members was so shockingly terrible it almost got him wiped from the expedition completely. All other crew members reported him to be extremely intolerable, certainly not the right material for 10 years training and even longer cramped in a small ship together, or worse still, isolated on a planet with one another. Just when he was as good as out he was trialled one last time with a group of the other 5 most highly recommended astronauts, and suddenly it was better. It may have been due to the respect he had working with people of a high intellect (the highest, in fact), or his role as commander meaning he was allowed to boss them around a bit, but more likely it was due to his prior friendship with the crew members. 

NASA told all 6 members of the elite they were the top applicants deserving of the role and made sure each of them got to know the others and bonded before the years of training could even begin. From that day onward these selected 6 would be one anothers life support, their family, and they were to treat one another as such. Commander Sherlock Holmes, Chief Officer Harriet Watson, First Pilot Phillip Anderson, Chief Technical Officer Greg Lestrade, Chief Science Officer Sally Donovan and Chief Medical Officer John Watson (no relation). With these 6 astronauts confirmed, friendships were easier to form. In some cases even romantic relationships, which NASA strictly forbid (cough-donovan-and-anderson-cough). John and Sherlock for example, made fast friends within the week following their selection, surprisingly to the rest of the crew.

~  
“We haven’t been formally introduced. John Watson, Medical Officer?” He offered his hand in a sign of friendship, expecting from the beginning to be rejected, that’s what made the eventual shaking-of-hands seem like such a surprise when it actually came.

“Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, Commander.” Sherlock was obnoxious, intolerable and just plain rude. At least that’s what he’d heard. The crew had met roughly 6 times within the course of 2 weeks after selection just to bond and get to know one another. Sherlock Holmes had shown up to none of these meetings. This gave him a bit of a bad wrap amongst the crew, his negative attitude towards them when dealing outside of collective meetings wasn’t the kindest either, which led them to talk. And just like that he was known amongst the other 5 astronauts as pure evil.

“Right then commander, enough of that formal stuff. Coffee?” 

“Black. Please.”

“Got it, could you find us a table?” He said ushering to the endless open area of the small coffee shop. John Watson was never one for rumours. All through high school he was popular but not to the point to follow rumours. The point where they were made up about him. Three Continent Watson they called him, after Mike Stanford spread the story that he’d slept with three girls from three different continents. 

The point being that John was never one to believe gossip heard through the grapevine, so when word started to get out of what a terrible person Sherlock Holmes was, John had to find out for himself. And that’s what led to the pair of them together on Sunday morning, getting a coffee and chatting like they’d been friends for years rather than hours. John found out that Sherlock was extremely clever, a proper genius. He could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb. He could read John’s military career in his face, and leg, and his brother’s drinking habits and his mobile phone. He could see how the deduction thing could easily wind people the wrong way but he found it fascinating. Soon he was begging Sherlock to deduce the whole bloody cafe, which of course he did because Sherlock Holmes loves showing off. This was more than showing off though. John was attractive, and clever and kind and yet he was sitting across the table from Sherlock. John wasn’t afraid or insulted, in fact he seemed rather interested. John was the kind of guy in High School who Sherlock envied. The Rugby captain with hundreds of friends who brought happiness to whomever he spoke to and had endless people trying to win his attention. Sherlock was astounded at how he, even for just this moment in time, had somehow earned it from just doing the one thing he’d always considered a curse.

From that day they became inseparable. Sherlock started coming to more crew get-togethers, to everyone’s surprise. It took sometime but slowly the crew grew on him and they realised he may be intolerable but he was also a great man, by the end of the 10 years training he was even a good one. They’d all grown to be more than crew, more than friends. They were family, and none more than John and Sherlock who were one another's rocks. They did everything together from studying to christmas dinner to solving a murder at one point. They’d both stand to the fact that if they were to be trapped on an foreign planet with anyone, best case scenario it’d be one another. 

~

“We’re going to die.” John repeated. His head was rested comfortable nuzzled into Sherlock shoulder as Sherlock continued to soothingly stroke his side. Completely platonically of course. “We are going to be the first life forms to ever die on mars.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous John, I’ve yet to see any martians surely they’ve had to have gone somewhere and you really can’t take a title that prestigious away from them.” 

It had been a few hours since the Atlantas as well as 2/3 of the Ares-9 mission crew had left the planet. Enough time for both remaining astronauts to have their own personal freak outs and slowly begin to recuperate. Sherlock had boarded the Atlantas with the pending thought that he was going to die, after running the chances in his head he was as good as sure of it. In fact there was no point between take off and present at which he wasn’t assured of the looming likelihood of death, he didn’t really mind, with a 60% chance of something going wrong they were practically all aboard a suicide mission to begin with. John however, the eternal optimist, had barely even considered how likely their current situation was to come true, now that the initial buzz of ‘I’m an astronaut!’ was wearing off he realised his mistake. Sherlock was discovering that he hated how seeing the eternal optimist acting so pessimistic made him feel. However he ignored the knot in his stomach and continued to be a figure of support for their last few days.

“You watch too much x-files” John smiled. It seemed like it had been forever, Sherlock ignored the weird thing that knot in his stomach did when John smiled, even just the slight twitch of his lip to the side seemed to suffice 

“You can never watch too much x-files”

Another loud smashing sound came from one of the far airlock doors. The solar storm had calmed down significantly since the ARES-9 departure but nevertheless there was still the occasional smash of wind onto the side of the HAB or slight tremor in the walls. 

“How long do you ‘reckon the storm will last?”

“Not too much longer now,” Sherlock rode his arm up John’s side and traced small patterns into his shoulder with the pad of his thumb “you should get some rest”

“I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep at this rate”

“Atleast try,” he reasoned “for me?”

John tilted his head from his place on his friend’s shoulder to meet Sherlock’s eyes and the knot in his stomach did that thing again. It was as if every emotion was exchanged in that one glance. All the sadness and grief of what was yet to come, the tiredness and the disbelief. 

“For you.” He nodded, rising to his feet and towards his bunk. He’d always hated keeping the bottom bunk below Harry but what he would do to only have her back at that moment.

Sherlock smiled softly at him as if to say thankyou and headed for the HAB system command to switch out the lights in the bunking area. 

“Night Sherlock”

“Goodnight John.”

For now they still had food, oxygen, energy, shelter, water and one another. For now that was all they could ask for. Whether or not it would suffice was up to fate.


	2. SOL13

SOL13

Sherlock rose the morning of Sol13 to the smell of coffee and faintly what he assumed was sweat coming from the HAB's kitchenette. This suspicion was confirmed when he walked into the area and was met by John’s insistent shove of coffee across the table. He wore an oversized grey NASA sweater as were apart of regulated uniform (Sherlock had an identical one in his bag), as well as sporting large bags under his eyes and gentle crinkles on his forehead.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Sherlock asked, accepting his mug of coffee however still aware of how they should be rationing their supplies

“Not a wink” The reply came, John still staring down at a thick journal placed on the table in front of him, pen in hand and messy scrawl covering the pages

“Right,” he sighed “What’s all this then?” Sherlock ushered to the notes

John looked up from his coffee and scattered sheets of mathematics for a moment to lock eyes with Sherlock. “We aren’t going to die here.”

“We aren’t?”

“No, no we aren’t because I have a plan”

“Enlighten me then.” Sherlock smiled in the corner of his lips. Certain death on an alien planet wasn’t exactly smile worth thus why he hadn’t smiled in a fair while on the expedition. It felt foreign on his lips but seeing John’s eyes sparkle as he started to explain his mathematics, the rush of his words as he explained every point, the hint of pride and smugness in his voice, for some reason it seemed enough to smile a little.

“-so, we came equiped with food to feed 6 people over 100 Sol’s. That equivocates to 600 Sol’s worth of food all up, there are only 2 of us so 300 Sols worth each, 350 if we ration. Ares-10 doesn’t land for another 2 earth years so we’ll need round about double the food we have now. So either one of us needs to die off within these first few Sol’s or we’ll have to grow crops. Somehow.” Sherlock found himself smiling a little at the ‘dying off’ comment “Water supply is alright for 300 Sols, maybe more but certainly not 350, if we’re attempting farming then no more than 100 Sols with rationing. We’ll need to make our own. Obviously the formula is 2H2 + O2 = 2H2O + E but with no flammable material onboard I just can’t see how the process would be possible since we’ll be essentially burning hydrogen, which is very unethical aboard a space habitation might i add.”

“I agree, completely unethical, best not tell NASA about that one” Sherlock took another long sip of his coffee and John pretended like he didn’t catch Sherlock’s tongue pop out of his mouth to lick his lips and pretended like it didn’t make him feel all fluttery.

“No, best not. Anyway say somehow we make enough water to sustain the agriculture and ourselves for roughly 700 Sols before the next mission lands, we’d need something to actually farm. On board we have potatoes, peas, carrots and sunflower seeds - the rest of the food is freeze dried. I propose planting the carrots and potatoes as they’ll have the carbs to sustain us that peas don’t and I am not about to survive 2 years eating sunflowers. The closest thing we have to soil is manure mixed with martian dirt, it should suffice as long as all the crops planted have their eye facing upwards, and the HAB provides a suitable atmosphere - we’ll supply the water.”

“Question,” Sherlock raised his hand like a child in kindergarten and John thought it wasn’t totally adorable. Not one bit.

“Yes?”

“By manure you mean..”

“Yeah. We’ll be farming in our own faeces unfortunately. It’s that or die on Mars. Another issue is that ARES-10 will land 3,200km away from the HAB, we could travel this distance in the Rover but it’d take 25 days to travel with the combined weight of both of us assuming we’d share one rover using the battery from rover 2 attached to rover 1 we should keep a constant speed but they’d need to be recharged regularly.”

“What if we attach the Solar panels to the rover to charge the battery?”

John was quiet for a moment, pondering the new information. “I suppose we could but they’d take 12 hours a day at least to charge fully, accounting for the distance from Mars to the sun compared to Earth and the sun it’s more like 14 hours. I’d have to do the math, it’d double our travel time but it’s possible.”

“It’s that or die on Mars” Sherlock smiled. John smiled back. They held that glance for at least a minute, just staring at one another with some kind of intense emotion Sherlock didn’t fully understand, before Sherlock cleared his throat and nodded back towards the mathematics. “So, today..”

“For today, of course. We’ll need to raid the HABs kitchen for whatever crop we can find. Take the tarp from the remainder of the MAV and lay it across the surface of one of the rooms in here to grow plants, I propose this room, as the air conditions are easiest to control. Cover that tarp in martian dirt, that’ll be the difficult part. Work on the chemical equation for water, see if we can use any other form of energy than a flame but it’s unlikely.”

“Right then, anything else commander Watson” Sherlock joked

“Maybe one more thing,” John mentioned subtly as if he were about to explain one of the stupidest ideas ever spoken on the planet, i suppose it’s possible it were “What if we move the solar panels from the east of the HAB to the west”

Sherlock looked at John incredulously “..Why?”

“There are 12 Mars satellites in orbit above us as we speak if we can give NASA some indication that we’re alive-”

“They’d send ARES-10 sooner, John you’re a genius!” Sherlock all but shouted, reaching for a pen and dotting something onto John’s notes page in a rush, he didn’t seem to mind.

“I am?” John laughed

“‘Course you are John, always have been” Sherlock smiled placing his pen on the table again and looking up to catch Johns glance. Suddenly it felt as if the situation had shifted, something inside of him had shifted. John looked at him with those big blue eyes, full of sincerity and amazement. Sherlock currently had one of the greatest views in the solar system and it wasn’t of the planet.

“Thankyou, Sherlock” John’s voice had dropped to almost a whisper, which was strange since they were the only two in the room. They were the only two on the planet. Maybe that was why the moment felt so impossibly personal

“Yes, well..” Sherlock started again awkwardly, causing John to smile a little more “The satellite thing is smart but we’d have to move something other than solar panels. Although they’re light enough to move without using too much of our rationed energy they could just as well be moved by the storm. The MAV is too heavy and we’ve lost all the satellites in the storm, panels are a safe choice but we’d have to do more. NASA won’t endanger an entire mission if they aren’t 100% sure we’re alive. I propose we drive the rover a few places to the north each morning, each night we’ll plug it into charge. Although it could be controlled remotely from NASA before the storm, that isn’t possible without the satellites and there’s no way anything other than a human being could plug a rover onto charge each night. Removing the tarp and energy generator from the MAV should be indication enough on its own also, the storm was strong but not that strong. If we see no sign of communication in a few Sols we’ll try another approach.”

“Incredible” John sighed. “We aren’t going to die”

“No, we aren’t” Sherlock smiled back and John’s stomach did that flippy thing again and God he’d have to look into that a little more later, for now he had a plan and a friend and a somewhat chance at getting home. That was enough.

He wasn’t going to die on Mars.

~

“We are going to die on bloody mars!” John shouted

“That’s the spirit John”

“We can’t do this, who’s idea was this?!”

“I believe that would be yours” Sherlock sighed, setting his bucket aside and starting on a new one. They successfully removed the tarp and set it up in what was previously the HAB’s kitchen, they also moved the solar panels, calculated their rations and drove around a little in the rover. This was all fun and games up until little after midday when John suggested they get started covering the tarp with martian dirt, tomorrow they’ll start on the manure and water, and in no time they’ll be Mars’ first farmers. Unfortunately, this whole plan sounds much better in theory than it does when applied to actual life.

“Yes well, i’m an idiot then, aren’t i?” John sighed, scooping another shovel’s worth of dirt into his bucket. NASA hadn’t prepared them for a life of agriculture, and thus they landed with little to no prior experience and no tools of the trade. At first they used Lestrade's night slippers to transfer each scoop of dirt into the HAB, however the oxygenating process of entering the front of the HAB, walking one slipper through to the kitchen, covering the tarp, and starting the process again, grows very repetitive very quickly. Besides, they were losing too much oxygen between the trips in and out to stay alive 300 Sols - probably more if NASA didn’t do something fast.

“Nonsense John you’re not an idiot,” at some point in the late afternoon, Sherlock suggested they shovelled dirt from the slippers into one of Donovan's chemical disposal buckets (after disposing of the chemicals, of course) and transporting the buckets inside in one big lot tomorrow morning. “you’re just… a medical officer.” he added with a scoff.

“Chief medical officer,” John corrected, “greatest chief medical officer on the planet, I’d say”

“You aren’t chief medical officer if you’re the only one”

“Tell that to NASA” John huffed, popping the lid on his second bucket and setting it aside to start a new one. Sherlock, who was already on his third bucket, glanced at him over his shoulder. It wasn’t a race but Sherlock was very competitive and also, very in the lead.

“We all have a medical degree Watson, that’s a requirement for making the crew”

“True, but i have a further degree” he grunted, dropping the heavy bucket and opting for a new one. His muscles flexed under the heavy equipment, which didn’t impress Sherlock at all, in fact it didn’t even catch his eye. God, is it hot out here? Yes, you idiot, it’s mars. he thought.

“Tedious” he sighed turning back to his own job

“I suppose you majored in being an ass?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Watson, there’s no such class”

“You’d better invent it then”

“Well then I’d have a further degree in assery than you and then where would we be?”

“Trust me, you’re already a bigger ass than me” John laughed

“I am not!”

“Oh, you are so!”

“Says you!”

“You’d better watch it Holmes”

“Or what?”

“Try me!”

“I dare you!”

~

“What is the exact PH value of distilled water?” Sherlock asked, flipping through the revision cards the two had made together. Their exam was in a week’s time, although these exams no longer decided who could, or rather, could not join the ARES mission crew, it was probably still possible NASA could kick anyone off the team who scored too poorly. So a prompt last minute study session was called for the good of both parties.

“I’ve no idea.” John sighed, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. His thoughts were too jumbled and sleep deprived to be logical. Stupid NASA, stupid tests, stupid study cards, stupid Sherlock with your stupid eyes and brain and curly stupid hair.

“Come on John, think!” Sherlock prompted, “Its the new sexy” he added with a wink

“Would you stop saying that!” John’s stomach did that stupid fluttery thing again that he hated so much. He wanted to shove Sherlock against a wall and hit him over the head with a pillow or something. Maybe punch him in the face but then attend to his wounds and apologise as that may be taking it a step too far.

“You know that pure water has a PH of 7 at 25 Celsius. At 50° it’s 6.55. The water that has been exposed to air and thus is mildly acidic, as it absorbs carbon dioxide from the air. So, make a deduction.”

“Um,” he started. good one John, make a fool of yourself in front of the cleverest man you know, (you’re smart too John), not smart enough apparently, (you’re an astronaut), so are you, (make. a. deduction.) to go from 25° to 50 the temperature has obviously doubled, with this increase the PH value has dropped by .45 (So?) so this value decreases with increasing temperatures therefore-

“John?” Sherlock asked, “did you just do that thing where you hear my voice in your head”

“I hate it, you’re just as obnoxious in my imagination as you are in real life.” he huffed  
Sherlock laughed, “did you figure it out then?”

“It depends on the temperature... the answer can’t be found.”

“Excellent.” Sherlock smiled, placing the study card behind another in the pile and glancing over to the next question. John was pretty bloody proud of himself for working that one out.

“I hate Chem, what’ll we ever need the Ph of distilled water on Mars. I study medicine for Christ's sake!”

“My first major was astrophysics John, I hate chemistry just as much as you”

“Lets drop it then!” John suggested, sitting up on the bed to look Sherlock in the eye, “What’s say we drop exams and NASA and training and all of it, we’ll fly to Mars all on our own, you and me Sherlock, it’ll be like a holiday!”

“Like you could pull that off in the first place, we’d be thrown in jail for the rest of our lives the moment we land home” Sherlock said, without missing a beat

“Then we just won’t come home,”

“Wouldn’t that be nice” Sherlock smiled, looking over at John. In that moment it was almost as if the worries of yesterday that had them both wanting to run away so far, just didn’t exist anymore. Tedious little human things like taxes and homework, all just melted away. It was rather calming. It was nice.

~

Sherlock sighed, placing his slipper back on the dirty martian sand next to his half full bucket. “My furthest degree was in astrophysics, I’ve told you this a thousand times.”

“I could have forgotten,” John mumbled like a toddler determined to win a childish debate. Sherlock looked at him with a stare recognisable even through a thick spacesuit such as their own. A look that said ‘of course you couldn’t have forgotten because you care for me too deeply, and i care for you too but neither of us would ever admit that because of masculinity or some stupid construct like that, but maybe i’ll make you a tea tomorrow morning and we can call it square’

“Sorry for insulting your degree - you’re the wisest doctor I know. “ Sherlock sighed, swallowing his pride because it was true and he knew it was true, everyone knew it was true but to admit it out loud almost seemed to mean something so much more.

“..I think Greg’s slippers have had it in for one day, don’t you?” John sighed, standing up from his place, “besides, there are two rations inside just waiting for us” he laughed, out stretching a friendly hand to Sherlock, who took it, of course. They ate a nice dinner of freeze dried something that John insisted tasted like rice but Sherlock said was some kind of vegetable he couldn’t recall. It wasn’t the best end to Sol 13 one could ask for, however, it was one of many to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> Most to all facts mentioned in this fic are true. Real science and real NASA procedures as documented by the scientists and astronauts themselves. If this sort of thing interests you there are heaps of resources online to find out more. This fic is based on the book “The Martian”, worth the read, or if you’d prefer the film version I’d highly recommend it. 
> 
> HAB: Habitation. A little base on the surface where the crew would live on missions. Having a HAB on a planet does not define the planet as colonised. (Space law states no one country can colonise or own any celestial plane)
> 
> Space Law: encompasses national and international law governing activities in outer space. A series of 5 international treaties
> 
> Atlantas: The name of the spacecraft the crew traveled via. Similar to how the Appolo11 mission was carried out in a ship called ‘Eagle’. In science fiction terms it’s like calling your ship Enterprise, Millennium Falcon, The Heart of Gold, Dark Aster, Discovery One, Serenity etc. 
> 
> Celestial Plane: positioned in or relating to the sky, or outer space as observed in astronomy (not to be confused with astral plane, which is a concept of religious belief)
> 
> MAV: Mars Ascent Vehicle. The ship the rest of the crew take to get off the planet. Different to the ship taken to get to Mars. 
> 
> Sol: Solar day. one Martian day around 40 minutes longer than an earth day.
> 
> Ares: the name for NASA missions to mars. Like how "apollo" was the name for missions to the moon. Ares-9 therefore meaning the 9th mission to Mars
> 
> CAPCOM: Capsule communicator. The way an in-space crew speak to mission control. From mars this communication takes usually 3-6 minutes, 40 minutes maximum if the satellite they are trying to reach is at a place in orbit where it is being obstructed by the planet. 
> 
> Newtons: measurement of force. 1N force is how much force needed to accelerate an object with a mass of 1kg at 1 meter per second.
> 
> Ranks in order:  
> Commander: command of spacecraft, authority over crew, entrusted with the safety of crew and spacecraft. (All shuttle commanders need a degree in at least one of the areas I listed for Sherlock, 1000 hours flying experience and 750 simulated landings)
> 
> Chief Officer: second-in-command after the captain and a member of ExCom. As head of the Bridge Department, he/she coordinates the Bridge crew and oversees operation of the Bridge, ensure smooth flight operation whether in combat or navigation
> 
> First Pilot: The main controller of the helm. While long distance travel are usually handle by the autopilot, an experienced pilot is crucial for combat manoeuvre, going in and out of FTL travel as well as docking/landing and taking off. Candidates for the First Pilot seat usually requires at least 4,000 hours of logged flight time in order to even be considered.
> 
> Chief Technical Officer: Responsible for all operations and maintenance that have to do with all systems, machinery and equipment throughout the ship. Also referred to as Chief Engineer.
> 
> Chief Science Officer: A critical part of any research or expedition ships. Degree in all scientific areas as Head of Physic, Head of Chemistry, Head of Biology, Head of Astronomy & Geoscience, Head of Neuroscience, Psychology & Medicine, Head of Computing & Mathematics and Head of Social Science. Usually these roles will all be played by separate scientists where needed but not on small expeditions like this one
> 
> Chief Medical Officer: the person who is qualified to treat people who are ill aboard the ship. a mission specialist with additional responsibility of assisting the commander and keeping track of information from CAPCOM. Provide health care services, give necessary treatments for the sick and wounded, as well as perform the occasional autopsy for research


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